Saying Goodbye
by Maebmin
Summary: During Garrus and Shepard's last night together, he bargains his fate for hers. Loosely based on Jesus Christ by Brand New, and written for the kinkmeme. Rated M for sex and angst.


A/N:

This is a fill I wrote for the kmeme (once again), for a prompt that asked for a heartbreaking vision of Garrus and Shepard's last night together, based on _Jesus Christ_ by Brand New. This is very angsty, so don't act surprised.

I hope I did justice to the prompt, and to the song. Like all my fills, I tend to rush them, so I will always consider coming back to this and adding anything that I feel is missing. Hope you like it, and remember that I love reviews :)

"Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face  
The kind you'd find on someone I could save  
If they don't put me away  
Well, it'll be a miracle"

* * *

It was when Miranda died in Shepard's arms that Garrus discovered hopelessness.

Long before her death, it seemed like the galaxy had just become accustomed to sadness. For the Normandy, it seemed to be after Mordin's death, or at least Garrus thought so. After that, pain had just become drudgery, and honestly, it could have been worse. The beginning of the invasion had been the hardest part because it strung fear along with it. With two tours alongside Shepard under his belt and a third one underway, he had become accustomed to things changing rapidly, but he had always been able to steady himself. This time had taken its toll much more drastically.

At the start of this, everything had been out of sorts once again. His mother was dead, he hadn't seen Shepard in months, and his promotion and task force had suddenly given him the leadership he should have accomplished years ago. He again had the strong urge to run away from his responsibilities, but his father's support had made that impossible.

Before he knew it, vids of Vancouver collapsing followed him in every room he working in, every hallway he walked down in between meetings, and every minute he spent in his quarters. Thinking of Shepard was his only hobby he kept in his small amount of free time, as he waited for her to show up again. It wasn't long after that that they came to Palaven, and he suddenly was rushed to Menae.

And now Vakarian was terrified. He kept it to himself, of course. He was doing great work with his false confidence in full show. But he had never been so scared in his life.

It smoothed out, though. Hope came in the burst of violence and glory that Shepard entailed, and even though he was still scared, he now felt oddly invincible again. With Shepard, they could accomplish anything. Was it foolish to feel that way? Absolutely. But it was that solace that saved him during this war.

There were moments of full of hope. Moments where he reasoned with himself that this was all becoming possible. The plans for the crucible, the turian-krogan alliance, even brokering relations with the quarians and the geth. They were doing things he never thought would be possible, and he could see through Shepard's swagger in her step that her confidence hadn't left her.

But it wasn't enough. It felt like cupping water in his hands and trying to keep it from seeping out. They were accomplishing the most amazing tasks in the world, as if the galaxy knew they were running out of time to be heroes. Just in time for their achievements to become meaningless.

Before Thessia, he felt real hope. He saw the glint in Shepard's eyes as they left Udina's old office with the asari councilor's information. _This could be it, Garrus. _

But it wasn't. It could have been, but it wasn't. When he pulled Shepard up from the falling rubble, the anger they both felt seemed to be detonate. Her fevered shots at Kai Leng's shuttle were nothing compared to her aggravated cry as she ran forward and shot into the sky.

After the mission, Liara's sobs were still ringing in his ears. Garrus had followed Shepard up to her room after they got out of their armor and she informed the council of their failure. She slammed her fists on her desk, making him jump.

_That was our last lead, and I fucked it up_.

Her ragged voice scared him. Another slam and he reached over, picking up her tightly wrung fists with his hands. Her green eyes were tinged with red, and they dragged up to meet with his before he pulled her to him.

That was bad. But the anger they both held, that the whole crew held, turned into a burning motivation. It felt like enough to propel them to the end. They had to _do this_, even if it was just to destroy Kai Leng.

That momentum had kept him going. Had kept Shepard going. _But now…_

Miranda sputtered blood on Shepard's armor and her own uniform. Her voice was a broken, inaudible whisper, but Garrus still kept his distance. He watched as Shepard nodded solemnly to her final words, before her eyes lolled aimlessly and her body went limp.

Shepard held her body up for nearly a minute afterwards, saying orders that apparently only Vega comprehended, as he walked to the nearby comm to broadcast the warning about Horizon to would-be refugees.

Starting now, they were totally lost.

* * *

Garrus didn't follow Shepard up to her quarters this time. They parted ways when she rushed off to the QEC. He knew that she knew that they would be receiving orders soon, and he imagined she had a lot to discuss with Hackett.

He hit the showers with Vega, who impressed him with his placidity. Even after tough missions, Vega usually had something witty to say. His general lack of small talk was appreciated by Garrus, who returned to the main battery in no time. There was always work that needed to be done, and he felt rushed suddenly.

He led himself into a daze while he focused, examining algorithms and polishing them painstakingly. It was hours later when his data pad lit up and distracted him. He stopped, irritated, before examining it and finding a crew wide message from Shepard. Enclosed were mission details and orders regarding Cerberus HQ. Specific instructions followed, and the time frame included an ETA that was less than sixteen hours from now.

Garrus swallowed. He read the message over and over again. The contents blurred into meaninglessness, until the only line that still made sense was: _This is the first phase of the final assault against the Reapers. _

The first phase of the final assault.

As he stood there, processing, his mind stuttered between feeling violently ill and being content. His body wouldn't move either, though he kept looking around to see if anything near him had changed. It hadn't.

He had his own vote on death. He wholeheartedly believed in the war, believed it was possible to succeed, believed that Shepard would live. But these positive allowances forced him to compromise and also tell himself that he was bound to die. Accepting that gave him momentary pleasure, a release of some sorts.

He gained his mobility back, but only because he knew he was going up to Shepard's quarters. It was nearly like muscle memory now.

* * *

Her door opened freely, unlocked as per usual. She was sitting at her desk, and didn't bother to turn around and look at him.

"We aren't acting rashly, are we?"

"There's no sense in wasting more time, now." She spoke lightly, skipping through pages on her datapad and signing them off.

He steadied himself on the wall, considering the possible solutions in his mind, "Well, who knows what will happen when we find the VI. It might not be something that we will be able to handle ourselves."

"Then we'll join the fight with the rest of them, Garrus. We're not above that."

Her tone was not sore or annoyed. She was stating a fact, and Garrus felt stumped as he reasoned with himself that he should start arguing with her. His mouth opened, fixing to say, _We __**are**__ above that, Shepard._ Hearing that would break her heart though, because both of them would know that he was lying. Arguing would be a pointless venture, and his sick stomach returned.

Every word seemed so damned important now, and as he stood, watching her sign off on forms she shouldn't have been wasting her precious time on, he felt completely overwhelmed. There were thousands of things to say. Stories about his mother he had always meant to tell her. Questions about her family and forcing her not to change the subject. His opinion on recent tax reforms on Palaven. All these insignificant things that made up his life that he had neglected to mention to the one person who might care.

All those thoughts collapsed into a single second, and it sunk him into more silence. He stood still, and as he watched her pale hands move quickly on the screen, he noticed a small quiver to them.

The weight on his mind disappeared when he saw it. It was a tiny crack of weakness, but it forced Garrus to realize that he was not alone in his strange desperation.

He stood next to her, placing a hand on her small shoulder. He found his strength, his thick voice finally saying, "Shepard…stop doing reports."

Her hands froze in contemplation before she continued on a new page. He was about to let her carry on, but his determination led him to reach down and pull the datapad away from her. He risked insulting her, but her grip was soft and she seemed to relax once he placed the pad behind him.

"If I don't get those finalized, Garrus…"

"What, are they going to take the Normandy away? You'll get to it after the war is won."

Her features softened as her eyes closed. He realized he had touched a nerve when her face contorted before her hands went over her face, masking her face while she composed herself. She looked up at him and then away, finally saying, "If I don't finish these tonight, they'll be finished with someone else's signature, not mine."

Garrus pulled her up from her chair by her hands roughly. His voice became low and gruff as he leaned closer to her, holding her by her arms now, "The only reason it wouldn't be your signature is because you'll be too busy winning every medal in the galaxy to be bothered by the Alliance anymore."

His words made her smile slightly, and he relaxed his grip on her. Her frown returned again though as she folded her arms.

"I appreciate the pep talk, Garrus, but I'd like to have one serious conversation with you about our prospects, okay?" Her eyes became large and she looked pleadingly at him.

His throat tightened as he became indignant and shook his head, "I'm being serious, Shepard."

Her eyes rolled as she tried to walk down to the couch, but he grabbed her arm and forced her back up the steps. Her face contorted again as she tried to pull her arm away from him, but he held it tightly before he maneuvered her body against the desk.

"Damn it, Shepard. Just because I believe in you doesn't mean you can just blow me off like that. Making you believe in yourself in the most important thing I've ever done. Don't belittle it…"

Her eyes narrowed as they focused on his, but he held the strength of her gaze. It wasn't until he looked down at her forearm that he realized how hard his talons were digging into her. He let go in disbelief that he would do that in this moment. When she reclaimed her arm, he expected her to reach out and slap him or push him away.

She didn't, though. She wrapped her arms around herself and still stared. They shared silence, but before he could grasp for words to apologize with, she raised her hands to quiet them.

"You believing in me is what has kept me going in this war. It's so important to me, Garrus. Really."

He swallowed dryly while he tried to gauge her emotion. She was annoyingly unreadable, but her troubled face was tragically lovely and in the gaping pit of words, his body finally came into use. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her and while she stood limp for a moment, her arms came to life and wrapped around him.

"You have to believe in this, Shepard. Believe in yourself," His voice was quiet as he ran his hand through her rough hair. She nodded gently, but still clung onto him.

Eventually she let go, sliding away from him to walk slowly to her bed. She sat on the edge of it and patted the side next to her as she tilted her head in thought. He followed suit and angled himself to look at her.

"Are you afraid to die, Garrus?" Her voice was small, but it refused to quiver like her hands had earlier at her desk.

Her frankness took him aback, and he considered not answering. He sighed loudly, leaning forward on his hands as he considered it.

"No. I'm not. Afterwards, maybe," He sounded strong, but soon he shook his head in ill, "Spirits, Shepard, I don't know if I can talk about—"

"Garrus. Please."

It would be impossible to say no to her, really. He paused again before continuing, "I'm fine with dying. What bothers me is not knowing the conclusion. Win or lose. What….what happens to you. If it all went wrong...it's better to know."

"Or if it all went right."

Her hand landed on his and he smiled slightly, coughing nervously before he nodded.

"I'm…I'm afraid of not being able to say goodbye. I mean…not just missing the opportunity. I mean not being able to let you go. I'm afraid of being afraid."

By this time, they were both lying down and looking at each other from their sides. Her still wide eyes were glistening but seemingly hopeful looking. He watched her lips, until they parted and she finally said, "I know."

She rolled closer to him, leaning her chest against his as she stared. "If someone, years ago, told you that this is where you'd be at this time in your life, wouldn't you be glad? At the end of the world, you're here, in a position of power. Doesn't that feel good?"

He considered that, and imagined himself on some forsaken colony, hiding in a bunker and waiting for the ceiling to cave in. The thought of having children now made him nauseous. All he had ever wanted, in any crisis, was to be the one fixing it. He had succeeded in that with Shepard several times, but now…

"I don't know. It makes being powerless in the face of something feel that much worse, almost."

That was obviously not the answer she was looking for, and she turned to avoid eye contact with him. He berated himself for causing her to frown, but then pulled her close to him once more, "Choosing this path let me meet you, Shepard. You and me…We were always supposed to happen. We both worked our entire lives to be in this position. It means something."

"Are you saying you believe in fate?"

"Not in the strictest sense, but…this is what we were always meant to do, and we've always known that. It couldn't be anyone else, Shepard."

She stood up, sliding off her slick blankets with her hands. She had begun to walk back up to the stairs when he once again grabbed onto her hand, causing her to turn back to him while he sat up.

"I should check my messages, Garrus." Despite her annoyed tone, she angled herself closer to him and relaxed when he reached up to her face. Her eyes closed as he caressed her round cheek, loosening the tension in her neck as her chin lolled.

He examined the small brown spots on her pale skin that she had told him to call 'freckles'. He only thought of them as spots though. He noticed them when he first started working with her. He'd seen them on other humans before, but it wasn't until he saw her remove her top armor during an early mission that he realized they were all the way down her spine. A harsh omniblade slash had pierced through the plates in her upper back, causing a medigel malfunction. It was bad enough to make Liara insist on the shuttle ride back that she remove the back plates and start tending to the wound immediately.

Shepard and Liara peeled the armor away, and Garrus felt very useless as he stood watching. The spots trailed all the way down her back, in a t-shape across her shoulders. They were intriguing then, three years ago, and only served to drive his curiosity about where else they would be found.

He had found the answer pleasingly the night before the Collector base, more than two years later. His hands had traced them in wonder as she laughed, and he fell in love with her giggling and softness. He never imagined she could be like this, or that he could feel like this the night before he should die.

Remembering that made him smile earnestly, with no hint of pain, and he shook his head in amazement, "You are so beautiful, Shepard."

He could feel her melt in his palm a little bit. She gave an embarrassed smile, like she wanted to deny it but knew it would be pointless.

"…And your spots are so fascinating."

That turned her smile into a laugh, and she shook her head as she twirled away from him on her feet. He stood while pulling her, and she turned reflexively back, landing against his body with a satisfying thud.

Her voice murmured from his chest, "They're freckles."

Garrus shook his head unbelieving, "Do you remember the first moment I saw you? After talking to Executor Pallin?

She nodded slowly in his arms.

"After that, I wasn't too impressed with you. Curious, maybe, but not too much."

Shepard sighed in exaggerated irritation before Garrus started again, "Then in Doctor Michel's office, you walked calmly over and put a bullet in some thug's brain while he was crouching against the wall. So calmly. He was hiding from me, but he never knew that you were the one who got that shot in. That was the first time I noticed your spots, because I was looking at you instead of them. I still have that picture in my mind. After that, I never underestimated you."

She shifted her body back and forth, generating heat between them. "Looking at me instead of your targets? Your father would be ashamed," She nipped eagerly at his throat, and for a moment he lost himself in her heat and pushed back against her, feeling invincible once again.

As she pressed him against the bed, her fingers pulling at the edges of his casual clothes, he felt suddenly nauseous. An image of Shepard holding up Miranda's corpse entered his thoughts for just a moment. In the next second, it morphed into him holding up Shepard's.

Her hot breath traveled up his carapace, and he could feel himself shaking a heavy, lifeless body that contained no breath at all. She drove him forward so he was sitting down again and peeled off her N7 shirt in one motion, and he could imagine realizing that her body was blown to bits and that holding her corpse would at least allow for a goodbye.

"I want you tonight, Garrus." She forced him to lie back on the bed, and he was combing dried blood out of her matted hair. She crawled on top of him and tittered, and he was making a fool of himself while losing all composure in front of his squad mates.

He couldn't let that happen. He had to be the one. The universe would never let him be content with her. He had accepted that so long ago. All he wanted from fate was a solid compromise. _If you take me, you can't take her. She can handle my death better than I could handle hers. The galaxy needs her, and it's definitely never needed me._

"I need you, Garrus."

He blinked and realized she was half naked and flushed on top of him. Her toned abdomen was scrunched over as she relaxed her back.

"What did you say?"

She smiled, and leaned down, finding her way back to his ear, "I need you, all of you, in this room, right now."

Garrus placed his hands on her hips, squeezing his hands on her ever-so-malleable flesh. He thought of the first time he ever saw her, and how young they both were then. The small, lit scars on her face were the only thing that had changed about her since then, and he could argue that he loved her all the more for them. She was sitting on his lap, alive and tender, and she was exquisite.

He sat up slightly, so his face could nearly reach hers. His voice dropped an octave when he finally said, "I need you, Shepard. "

She purred in appreciation and grinded herself against him while she held her body up above his shoulders. He sat up, letting her remove his casual shirt up and away from him. Every time she did that, he was reminded of the first time she had ever fumbled with his clothing. He had laughed nervously as she stood, pulling hard on his shirt and cursing turian anatomy. She joked away her anxiousness; a trait he had noticed in combat but hadn't believed would follow into the bedroom.

Her hands worked faster now, though, with good practice. Not as fast as turian women, maybe, but it was still admirable. The trace of awkwardness was gone now, and for some reason, part of him missed it. It wasn't that it was less passionate; quite the opposite had taken place, now that he was comfortable with her body and knew its advantages. Nothing had been quite as exciting as those first couple times, however. Terrified but recklessly ablaze with a finally existing outlet for their love and tension, exploring each other's bodies had been a remarkable adventure for both of them.

Even so, things really were better now. The nervous laughter had been replaced by comfortable moans and quiet talk, and the exploration had been replaced with an unabashed love for every single one of her traits and quirks that he was quite sure no one else had ever noticed but him, and he hoped it would stay that way. They were the ways she brushed her short hair from hanging at the front of her face to the back of her head when she was on top of him, the way her strangely shaped ribs appeared when her back arched to the bed and the way her knees sometimes popped when she crawled off of him. They were things he always noticed and recalled at the time, but if he was asked about the experience an hour later, he would scarcely be able to recite the details.

"Do you…want me to stay here? Or do you want it…different?"

He glanced up at her, and realized she was pointing to her own body and her position on top of him. Surprised to only just then notice that his pants had been removed, he adjusted his body underneath her, before shrugging, "I want whatever you want. I know sometimes you uh, tire of being on top."

She smirked while shaking her head, "No, I like it…I'll just stay here."

He nodded and his hands found their way to her hips again. His thumbs dug in between her skin and her cargo pants, forcing them down lower. She giggled softly once she knew what he wanted, sliding off of him and bringing him up with her. His hands stayed in the same place and pulled down on the fabric unevenly and too fast, and she gasped quietly before adjusting her hips and thighs and stepping out of each leg.

Although he was sitting at the foot of the bed again, his head was now level with her chest. He wrapped his arms hungrily around her, one hand grasping at her ass and the other at her breast while resting his forearm against her belly. He squeezed her tightly to him, startling her and causing her to fall forward into his chest even more.

"I want you to be this close to me, for the rest of the night. I can't stand when you're away from me."

He looked up at her, resting his chin against her breasts. Her face was in a shadow with her hair highlighted by the glow of the fish tank, and her smile and eyes softened as she stared into his. She placed her hand on his forehead and ran her fingers along his fringe softly, scraping against each section delicately with her nails. She seemed to be thinking of something to say, and it was a moment later that she finally announced quietly, "I want you close, too."

Their eyes met once more and before there could be another moment of quiet indecision, he pulled her thighs up abruptly and shifted his weight backwards so that her legs were bent on top of the bed and she sat back on top of him. She smiled at his sudden determination, and her entire body relaxed as he hugged her torso tightly and grinded himself against her.

That one movement must have hit her in the right spot, because she shivered and became lax. He held her up with one hand and slid the other under her thigh and to her center. She stiffened as he rubbed her lightly, breathing in smooth patterns and eventually leaning all her weight on top of his shoulders. He could get lost in the sensation he got when he held her helpless weight for her, and often did. Taking care of her seemed like the only truly noble thing he had ever done, and he tried desperately to hold on to that feeling.

As he spread out her moisture and rubbed her into continual shudders, his mouth found her bare shoulder to latch onto. He bit playfully at first, but then harder as he pushed the pads of his fingers into her. She moaned, wrapping her arms around him and pressing against his length impatiently.

Garrus found himself completely lost in the moment. The pressure for this to be a perfect memory, and for it to be somehow better than all the other times he had been with her, was overwhelming, and it forced him to be spontaneous. He bit into her shoulder once more, this time shaking his head when his teeth sunk in, as if he were eating a carcass. His already tight grip around her strengthened, and it seemed to panic her.

Shepard pushed hard away from him, and in her confusion, fell off the bed, landing on her ass and cursing, "Christ, Garrus, what the fuck!"

He stared down in horror at her naked body on the floor, twisted away from him while her hand held her bitten shoulder.

"Shepard!" He sprung down to join her on the cold tile, sitting up on his knees and reaching out to her. He picked up her hand to examine her flesh, holding his breath for something horrible. The wound was nothing more than a reddish bruise, which at first relieved him, though part of him was disappointed that there was even a mark at all.

"I didn't mean to…Spirits, it's been a long time since I did that to you, I'm sorry." His voice was tender with anxiousness, and his other hand tangled in her rough red hair as he stared, fixated, on her body. He was about to curse again when Shepard straightened her arms and became nearly level with his face.

To his surprise, she smiled and laughed under her breath, "So confident on the battlefield, so apologetic in bed…" Her voice was angelically sweet, _too_ sweet for his mistake, and her palm landed on his chin and picked it up softly.

Garrus looked away from her and shook his head, "It's different when I actually _hurt you_ and knock you _off_ the—"

His rebuttal was interrupted by her lips, causing his whole body to stiffen in surprise. She seemed to do that often, though he had to admit that it had always worked. Before he could even relax, she pulled him by his elbows so he fell on top of her, her back meeting with the floor again. He mused for a moment on the turn of events, but quickly lost the battle as his face rested in her collarbone and her legs wrapped around his lower half. In a rush of fevered moments, his hand returned to under her thigh, where he placed his tip at that hungry opening of hers, and pushed in gently. He always held his breath at that moment, worried that this time, for some reason, their bodies just would not meld.

Her beautiful moan and shudder erased that thought, though, and he smiled. When he was young, he had always heard locker room conversations about human biology. Most turians wrote them off just as less attractive asaris, but the more advanced boys sometimes told particularly crude stories about human vaginas being freezing cold.

It would be a lie to say that he hadn't thought about those rumors as he considered his relationship with the Commander. He had noticed her slight chill before, specifically when he woke up to her holding his hand on the SR-2 after that rocket shattered his face. Later on, however, he made the pleasant discovery that their temperature difference was hardly noticeable, and it only served to give the encounter more pleasant, newfound sensations. As he pushed in and out of her, he was reminded of the refreshing thrill of cool water on hot pavement, and ironically, the feeling made him melt.

Shepard seemed to tire of his slow pace and hooked her legs tightly around him, moving her hips impatiently against his. He forced her down with his arms and purposefully slowed his pace while pushing harder and harder against her and entering her deeper in each thrust.

Her impatience turned to bliss, and she dropped her arms from around his carapace and let them hang limp above her head slightly. Her eyelids fluttered open and close while she sung her praise in familiar squeaks and chirps of delight.

Garrus propped himself up by his hands, and watched her upper body pulsate to the rhythm of his pressure against her. Her mouth was open placidly as she cooed, and something about its round softness made him feel even crazier. She was so goddamned beautiful, and even as it filled him with immense joy that they were together at this moment and that he was making her body and mind lose control on the floor of her suite, it only took a few seconds of thought before the intense weight he felt earlier returned.

All of the sudden, the realization hit him that falling in love with her felt like the worst thing he had ever done. The conflicting desires of not wanting to care at all for her and wanting to sacrifice everything to make sure she was safe clashed and his nausea returned. It would be so much _easier_, damn it. It was absolutely selfish to have her on his mind when it was the galaxy and all the souls in it that should have been causing him the most pain.

His train of thought had suspended his body on top of her, which forced her eyes open and her body to stop its quivering. He could not control stopping, and the realization that he had ruined her pleasure made him feel worse.

He had begun to shake his head and pull away from her as his voice cracked, "Shepard, I can't—"

He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but before he could consider it, she interrupted him with, "Garrus. I need you here, okay? Don't leave me for another moment. Be here with me, tonight."

In the blue light of the fish tank, her green eyes glistened with tears and were highlighted by the shadows underneath them, meeting with her flushed cheeks.

_She pulled his head gently onto her lap, and her voice was loud over the sound of comms and fire crackling near them, "I need you here, Garrus. I need you with me right now. It's me, Garrus."_

That day on Omega, he had returned her calming words with a cough that splattered blue blood all over her armor. She hadn't flinched, though. Her voice was kept steady throughout the ordeal, and it lead him into an unconsciousness that wasn't panicked or afraid.

Garrus blinked and met her eyes again. The nausea disappeared, her beauty entranced him, and he nodded, dropping his body closer to her so his mouth could lavish her neck. Her voice could lead him into her bed, or into hell, and he could follow it until the day he died.

That made him remember, as he picked her up and threw her back onto her bed and entered her once more, that he was going to die tomorrow, and it felt good. Her fingers scratched at his plates as she came, shouting his name and rolling around on the bed as she clung onto him, her strange pulsing inner walls doing the same.

There was a split second where he saw that other shining universe, a strange half-way place where he wasn't sure if the war would happen or if they would just survive the end of it. He wasn't sure at what point he would want to go back to. To the day on Omega where she had picked up Archangel, where he saw her for the first time in years? Or maybe after the successful suicide mission, when he had voiced his promise of commitment to her? Even at the beginning of the war?

It didn't matter. Somewhere in that universe, he would make her an honest woman, at least as much as she would allow him to. When they were done with traveling and adventures they had always had passed up on otherwise, he would bring up adoption, and she would roll her eyes but then in bed later she would suggest an agency and how lovely his mother's name would be on a little girl. The adventures, good and bad, would continue, and he would die content.

In that moment, Garrus bid goodbye to that universe, and with that release, he picked up his pace, gripping her as tightly as he ever had and came into her. Her coaxing moans quieted to a pleased murmur, and he fell to her side and exhaled.

They both were exhausted, and he watched her use all her energy to throw her arm across his chest. He calmly ran his talons through her hair as he enjoyed the silence between them, and nothing entered his mind to trouble him.

"It'll be okay, tomorrow," She whispered lightly from his carapace.

His free arm wrapped around her naked back as he nodded, responding comfortably with, "I know."


End file.
